Spring To Come
by herainab
Summary: With each little twinge. I wonder is this it? And then my stomach fills up with butterflies. I'm fearful. I'm nervous. I'm excited. I'm ready. I'm ready?
1. Dandelion

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_With each little twinge. I wonder is this it? And then my stomach fills up with butterflies. I'm fearful. I'm nervous. I'm excited. I'm ready. I'm ready?_

The dark haired beauty stirs on my chest, yawning but never opening her eyes. I smile over how precious she is. Dark wisps of hair cover her crown. Dark hair like mine. Which led to Peeta nicknaming her the dark haired beauty. She's only a few hours old and already I've studied every feature of my beauty. I want to forever remember this stage. The stage filled with newborn snuggles and sweet kisses. The first moments of her life to remember for years to come. To remember her tiny hands and feet that barely cover the size of my palm. Her tiny fingers and toes. The tiny fingers that grasped her daddy's finger hard. Locking it in place. Locking the two of them together. The first moments of bonding he'll forever cherish.

She's only hours old and I haven't dared move her from my chest, scared that I'll upset her and not be able to comfort her. She's moved once for a minute while she was weighed, measured and examined to make sure she was healthy before she came back to my chest, swaddled and placed to my breast to nurse. She cried while she left my arms but my breast comforted her to the quite state on my chest.

Our dark haired beauty is the perfect addition to our recovering world. The world no longer filled with destruction, hunger and fears of certain death but a world filled with dandelions. Those dandelions that represented rebirth. The bright yellow flowers of spring. The bright yellow flower that gave me hope all those years ago when Peeta saved my family from death. The bright yellow flowers that began to cover the meadow, flowering into the new season and hinting at the pink squishy newborn that would soon grace us with her presence. The baby brought upon the new season. The snow had melted a few days earlier, the air begun to warm and the flowers in the meadow starting to flower for the arrival of my dandelion. A symbol of hope and good things. The simple dandelion.

_I walked through the meadow. Walking was supposed to bring upon labour and I was more than ready to be in labour. Each time the baby stirred I was consumed with fear. Fear that would consume me and destroy me like those years before. Fear that I wouldn't be good enough for this baby. This baby that took 15 years to agree to have. The 15 years of nightmares I had over having children always resulted in the beings being taken, just like everything else I loved. Fear evaded the nightmares and I never took pleasure in the good dreams of watching my future children play in the meadow. Those dreams always ended too abruptly and I didn't want to disappoint Peeta if my nightmares came true and our children were taken away. _

_On our 14__th__ year of growing back together I had a week of good dreams, filled with the children Peeta always painted, playing in the meadow. The children were happy and not fearful of the world Peeta and I had experienced. The children were happy in every painting he created and they filled my dreams bringing me happiness. We had arrived back from visiting Annie and her son and like always she questioned if we were considering it and instead of saying no I just shrugged my shoulders and slightly smiled, our arrival home I finally told him a simple yes knowing he had given up asking me and we sat up talking despite our tiredness and spoke about when we would start trying and never once shared a fear about our plans. Little would I know within 6 weeks of agreeing I'd be sitting on my bathroom floor holding five positive tests in my hand having thought it'd take us months to conceive, I thought it was a fluke but the doctor confirmed the next week I had just reached four weeks and to be prepared for an early March baby, a Spring baby as well. It was probably a good thing we conceived so soon because I would have most likely taken back my yes and gone and had my quarterly shot and disappointed Peeta yet again. _

_No every kick or every time it rolled over I froze, certain new death was upon me and wonder if I chose the right path. I hadn't got used to the idea of growing a child inside of me, 9 long months had passed and I still froze in fear. It was a weird concept being an incubator for another life. Every choice I made affected the unborn child. That's why Peeta banned me from going into the woods alone. He was fearful for me being outsmarted by an animal and not having anyone to protect me. I stopped going to the woods when I could only just see the tops of my toes and when my balance started to go and when the snow started to fall hinting at the final stretch of pregnancy before our baby arrived. I was then confined to the house, reading countless, boring books. I added to the book that will help our children understand and be brave. Knitted clothing for the baby. I talked baby names with Effie over cups of tea which kept me from going crazy on my good days, despite my lack of conversation starters, she though entertained me about Haymitch and her life, their geese and their two children aged 10 and 6, who they had adopted and were teaching to be braver each day. If Effie, Haymitch or their children weren't around I took to sleeping all day as I began to tire more easily each day that passed, I wondered the town when I was restless, helped Peeta at the bakery or when he taught art at the school on Thursdays or just spending days in bed, unable to move after a bad night._

_This walk though was needed after 3 long months of being cooped up in the house counting down the days until the baby come. There was hardly any snow on the ground and the ground beneath my boots slushed as I walked to the meadow, getting fresh air and trying to bring on labour, the soft ground relieving some of the pressure in my swallow ankles. Three weeks ago I had experienced Braxton hicks, thinking it was the real thing. I called upon my doula late that evening and kept Peeta up for nothing. I felt like an idiot but Rosie assured me plenty of first time mothers mistook false labour for real labour. Slight twinges had come and gone the last few weeks but nothing has come of it. It would pass in a few hours and mostly I just slept them off._

_I was officially three days passed my due date and I was ready for it to be over with. I couldn't see my feet and tie my shoes. Sleep was hard to come by and every time I'd try to get comfortable I'd need to pee or the baby would be stirring inside of me. I'd become grouchier and moodier the last couple of weeks with the lack of sleep and the restlessness or not being in the woods. Haymitch had made sure to stay as far away from me until the baby came even missing the Friday night dinners both our families shared, instead hiding at home while his family sat at our dinner table. Peeta dismissed me from helping him at the bakery and the school because of my mood and made sure I stay home and rest. I took my frustration out on him more times than I should have but I was ready to move into the next stage and he understood the frustration I was experiencing. _

_Rosie and my mother had suggested ways to bring upon labour and Peeta and I had made sure we'd try them a few days before my due date in hopes of speeding it up. My mother had repeatedly told me that they had their own idea. Babies would come when they were ready, they wouldn't listen to their mother's or doctors. They were happy doing their own thing. I was just carrying a stubborn baby, who was too comfortable to leave. My mother said that I was the same, I was a week late and had my mother in labour for 30 hours. She hinted that it'd be a mini me the way things were and to get ready for a stubborn baby. I rolled my eyes at that thought and wondered why she'd say such a thing. Rosie told me my belly hadn't dropped which was a good indication of when the baby would be arriving and only on my due date had she told me I had finally dropped but give it a couple of days yet before the baby would be here. She just suggested the techniques and told me to be prepared to hold out for a little while yet. _

_So my walk brought me to the meadow. Spring was in the air, the birds were nesting and singing and the flowers were once again growing on the mass-grave. I felt a slight twinge in my back placed my hands to my back riding out the uncomfortable twinges I had been experiencing since I woke. I continued on walking, the golden yellowed furred dog right beside me, zig-zagging in front of me, sniffing the new flowers and smells that spring brought. The dog had been an early birthday gift from Peeta six years ago. He bought her from The Capitol, with Effie and Haymitch delivering her after months of scouting for the perfect companion. Effie and Haymitch also bought home their adopted children who they'd spent 6 months trying to adopt. The dog, or Bess as I called her became a substitute child for the last few years and showed Peeta and I what it took to raise something. The dog was an important lesson and I think she helped me agree to have a baby. Loving something else wasn't so bad and could be done._

_Bess stopped and turned to look at me, her tongue hanging from her mouth and her tail wagging in excitement. I threw a stick for her to chase and we continued on walking. Bess was the perfect companion for therapy for Peeta and I. Always by our side, watching over us or curled at our feet after a long day. The months when my stomach popped and grew she found pleasure in resting her head on my belly and curling beside me on the days we stayed inside the house. _

_She had come back with the stick in her mouth and held it for me in her mouth, understanding how hard it was for me to bend over. She seemed to understand me more than myself most days. I threw the stick and followed her trail before finding a perfect place to sit on a fallen tree. I was exhausted after that walk and needed to rest my feet, especially with the cramps and twinges. It was just after 1 and I knew Peeta didn't finish until 4 today. Monday's were his busiest days and he worked 13 hour shifts to make up for no trade on Sundays and prepare for the week with ordering supplies and picking up stock from the early train that arrived. _

_I still remembering telling Haymitch about the baby, he basically put it as Peeta's bun was in the oven. For the years after grew back together, Haymitch would ask if a bun was cooking. It'd been a running joke for 15 years now and I knew the minute he'd meet the baby he'd say the bun was finally cooked. _

_Bess trotted back and sat at my feet, gazing upon the meadow and letting the warmth hit her golden coat and take in the new sounds, smells and sights. I patted her head and felt another slight twinge and exhaled as the pain finished and I knew it was time to head back. _

"_Come on Bess, time to head back."_

_The dog walked proudly beside me not protesting to go back. She went everywhere I went and was happy to be in my presence all the time. She walked ahead of me as we came to the start of the meadow and she sniffed the ground stopping and turning back towards me, tail wagging. _

_I then noticed what she had found. This time I bent over, not caring about my lack of gravity and I pulled the yellow flower from the ground. This was the first flower for the season. I lifted the flower to investigate. A more painful twinge came to my back and the baby grumbled inside of me. _

_Rebirth. The yellow dandelions in the spring. _

_I dropped my hands to my stomach and smiled. _

_My little dandelion was on its way._

I lift my hand and softly trace the flushed baby skin with the first dandelion I picked for the season. 27 hours later I lay with the newborn snoozing on my bare chest, her head placed fitting against my left breast, her ear pressed to the lulling of my heartbeat. Listening to her familiar lullaby for those months growing inside of me. My heartbeat and songs could only settle her. Her daddy reminding me that even she had stopped to hear me sing, just like the birds did.

She didn't stir as I kissed her for the thousandth time and lay the dandelion on her back. I looked across at Peeta and smiled at his sleeping form. His arm was wrapped around my swollen belly were the baby's feet stopped, tightly holing me to him as he slept. I looked back to our daughter and she looked exactly like her daddy in a peaceful snooze. The long labour must have tired both of them. Peeta especially since he hadn't slept for 40 hours. Having worked a full day and then finding me clutching the couch as the twinge turned into the first aching cramp that was enough to take my breath away and bring the start of labour and 25 hours of gritting, bracing and clutching.

He never once left my side, his hands were on my back the minute he walked through the door and found me clutching the couch. He didn't rest one minute, even as I laboured late into night and into the new day. He clutched my hand as the contractions grew together, rubbed my back where it hurt and whispers sweet nothings while I dozed and rested like Rosie suggested I do. He was right by my side for 25 hours. He sponged down the sweat from my brow, pushed the stray hair that had fallen from my braid behind my ear and fed me ice chips. He climbed in behind me in the bath, rubbing my back as I let the water do wonders to my aching body. He never made an excuse to leave, never slept when I dozed instead he opted to rub my back and kiss my forehead and spoke to the baby who was fighting its way stubbornly out of my body. Even when I threw up on him, he didn't leave my side. He simply kissed me, removed his soiled shirt and returned to comforting me. Even when I cursed him for getting me pregnant he laughed, kissed me and asked me to remind him about that when we were holding the baby.

I watched his eyes, taking everything in. Taking a mental picture of the whole labour so he could express these things in his drawings and paintings later on. He wasn't missing a thing and even remained behind me, my back pressed to his chest as it came time to push, our fingers entwined, grasping and clutching for physical support. I insisted he watch where Rosie was.

"_I'm happy right here."_

When I felt the baby descending, I reached our hands in between my legs and we got a first feel our baby's crown. The first touch of our first baby. Our hands remained there and we felt our baby slip from my legs and into our hands as we brought the screaming infant to my bare chest with tears falling from my eyes at the sight of our first baby. A girl. She squirmed and screamed in shock of the new world. Our little dandelion. Our little bird. Our little bun. Our own little mockingjay.

That moment she entered the world, everything fell silent. Even the birds stopped their afternoon sing-song to listen. The sounds of new life brought silence to the whole of District 12. It was the sounds they'd been hoping to hear for years and they finally heard the most anticipated baby of the century.

The pain of being in a long labour was gone. Pushed aside because pain didn't matter right now. My mother was right, nothing beats the feeling of holding your child for the first time. The world seems perfect. There's no pain. No fear. No hunger or death. It's just you and your baby in this magical cocoon.

The moment she stopped squirming on my chest and gazed upon the two people she'd love the most in the world. My heart stopped and my tears fell harder. The years I had experienced hunger, pain and fear simply turned to those yellow dandelions. My past didn't matter. Only she did. She looked to her Mom and Dad, deadly silent. Inquisitive of the new world and the sounds of our voices cooing to her. She memorized the first sight post-womb. I gasped when I noticed the blue of her eyes. Her baby blue eyes she inherited from her father. I was joyful she had his eyes. Another trait she inherited from her daddy.

I had memorized every little detail of her in those few short hours, so had Peeta. I wanted to remember everything about her so I could tell my mother when I phoned. I wanted to be able to tell people exactly what my daughter looked like and remember it for years to come, when she grew into the beautiful young woman.

She had dark wisps of hair upon her crown. Dark hair like mine. She had little ears that replicated sea shells. Like the ones Peeta and I collected when we visited Annie and her son years ago. She had her daddy's beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes that would make anyone fall to her feet. Long eyelashes that brushed the top of her full, chubby cheeks and tickled my chest. A perfect button nose that Peeta insisted was like mine along with a perfect pout. Little lips that made a perfect pout while she slept, Peeta joking she scowled just like me. Her fingers were perfect and tiny, balled against my chest with her right thumb pressed firmly in her mouth. The other first wrapped firmly around her father's finger. She hadn't let it go for nearly an hour. Her skin was still flushed, no longer the faint blue when she lay on my chest. We wouldn't know for a while if she carried olive skin from the Seam or merchant pale skin. She had chubby little legs and tiny feet that were smaller than my palm. Ten little toes that would be perfect for walking, dancing and hunting. The one thing we found together was the faint birthmark on the bottom of her right foot.

A birthmark the shape of a bird. A mockingjay.

She was a constant reminder of our painful years growing up and growing back together. The reminder of the love I have for Peeta. The war we survived and the dandelions that grow now. The fire I had once to fight for a better life and the fairness of no longer being a pawn in their game. The fight of survival and every good deed I had seen someone do. Also everything I had done for people. She represented growth. The growth between Peeta and I and the unforeseeable things we can share together and help comfort the nightmares we both have.

I was scared of bringing a child into the world. I was scared I would be a terrible mother. I was scared I was too messed up and damaged to love and grow a child. I was scared for the safety of the child during one of Peeta's episodes or one of my moments.

But he reminded me how good I was at taking care of my Prim. How motherly I acted with Rue during the games. How kind I was with the other children of the district who visited the bakery on their way home from school. How much my strong maternal instincts showed when babies came to the bakery on their mother's hips and how comforting I was to the children of friends.

He reminded me that I was perfectly fine. That I wasn't too messed up. What I had endured in my lifetime wouldn't damage my raising of a child. It'd just remind me how wonderful life could be amongst the destruction. How I needed something good to come from the bad and be reminded how wonderful it was to love.

But now I felt a whole lot of overwhelming emotions from after these last few hours with my own child finally here.

My love has stretched to welcome this little stranger into my heart and my life. I can happily say how much I love this baby and I've only just met her. It's an overwhelming love, much like Peeta's and mine. That hole in my chest feels a little more whole now. I never was a true believer in true love but seeing my baby, I found myself stumbling again. Stumbling into this true love feeling. Like when I realised how much I loved Peeta, how my heart raced, my stomach filled my butterflies and my mind went crazy. The need to be with him fuelled this fire inside of me. My baby has me falling in love all over again.

Fear also evades my emotions but fear is a big part of parenthood. My mother told me this. She was fearful the day she became a mother and hasn't stopped fearing the worst is yet to come. The games were a big part of those fears and the poverty that we were raised in. Fearful that we wouldn't wake to see another day. Afraid to send your own into the games to fight to the death. Fearful that you'd outlive your own children.

My mother has experienced all those fears. She hasn't escaped them either. She's lost a husband, watched her daughter go through the Games twice, lead the rebellion, risking her own life to protect the thousands living in Panem, then being told her youngest daughter was blown to bits. She lost hope years before I went through the Games and her ray of sunshine, Prim was here one day and gone the next.

I understood what those fears felt like right now and I appreciated my mother for everything she has done. I've been a mother for a few hours and I understand that love mother's talk about. The fear they feel every day. Even when their children are safe and well, they are fearful every waking minute.

My mother lost the love of her life and I almost lost mine. Countless times. I wouldn't survive without Peeta right beside me now.

Peeta, never once told me he was scared to have a baby. Never once did he share his doubts over us raising a child. Our nightmares and terrors scaring the child. Those dark days when we didn't leave our bed would affect our parenting. He believed we'd be able to pull through, maybe the love of the baby would help ease away the pain we felt. That our nightmares would drift into dreams and those episodes would become less frequent with a distraction.

But I knew that the baby just brought upon more nightmares, involving our baby. I was experiencing those mother fears long before I could see the bump grow and feel her move about. I was told I was a mother when I expressed those doubts but it wasn't easy for the remaining weeks of pregnancy.

Peeta helped me though. When I woke from a nightmare, he'd be there, he touch my belly and remind me of the dandelions in the meadow and the freedom our baby would have to sing, dance and laugh. How it'd always have a full belly, a home and a lot of love.

"_What if I don't love the baby?"_

"_At first, you might not. It may be scary, the prospect of becoming a parent but it becomes clear when you first hold your baby, look them in the eyes, hear them cry and kiss their forehead. You may feel broken now but the baby will glue you back together and you'll find that fire inside. You'll fall in love again and understand what unconditional love is. Don't doubt not loving the baby, worry about smothering them with too much love." _

He always had a way with words but tonight, I found him speechless for the first time I had known him.

I smiled at him sleeping peacefully beside me. His blond curls in a mess over his eyes. His body still and calm. No nightmares or terrors had overtaken him tonight and I knew he was experiencing a peaceful dream. All the years we had shared a bed, this was the first time he looked undisturbed. I ran my hand softly through his curls and smiled remembering when he saved me from hunger when I was a young girl. Throwing me that bread to save my mother and sister from another night of starvation.

If I believed in fate, that day would have hinted at my future. To where I lay now. The bread thrown to save my life. To the toasting we had done years prior. When I told him my love for him was real. Fate had it that that boy would save my life. That I would save his life. That we found we couldn't live without each other.

I wondered what would have happened if we were never reaped. If I would have noticed him, gotten to know him and stumble into my first true love. I liked to hope I would, I'd like to think that I would understand that I needed more in my life, more than just the woods and Prim. That I'd need someone who had the ability to make my heart flutter in my chest every time I saw him. I wondered if I'd let my guard down and let him in despite my protests about marriage and family before I was reaped.

I liked to think things would be perfect if the war never happened. If we hadn't experienced what it was like to be a tribute and kill other children who were just as scared as you were.

Those things happened and life seemed perfect right now. Even if we weren't stable to have and raise a family. Nothing mattered in this moment. The world was closed off to us. Our past didn't exist. Death hadn't happened so much in our lives. We were happy. We were new parents in this little bubble of excitement and lack of worry.

My stomach growled, bringing me back into life. I knew I need to keep my strength up now since I had just accepted a full-time job. A job needing my undivided attention 24 hours a day. Slipping behind on meals would tire me easily and I knew that I would need a lot of energy to keep me going with the many feedings, diaper changes, sleepless nights and the demand of loving the baby along with Peeta.

I looked to Peeta and could see him stirring beside me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." He says sleepily with a smile. "You feeling alright?"

"I'm brilliant. I think I've memorised her features already." I say looking back down to the baby.

"She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen." He says lightly rubbing the baby's back before lifting the dandelion I left to bring it to my hair, tucking it behind my ear. "And you're more beautiful than ever."

I find myself smiling wider. This is the most I've smiled in my whole life. My cheeks flushed at his words and his lips meant mine, touching so softly and delicately.

"I've been such a hog, would you like to hold her?"

He nods his head, his eyes going bright. The sun was setting in the distance and the room was filling with his favourite colour.

I tried my best not to jostle her as I moved her up off of my chest so Peeta could grab her and hold his daughter for the first time. He settled the baby in his arms. She briefly opened her eyes with a scowl on her face at the disturbance but the butterfly kiss to her forehead and the sound of his heart settled her again and she made no fuss about being in her father's arms.

I knew that from that moment, she'd be daddy's little girl. She'd get away with anything. They'd share butterfly kisses, communicate with beautiful words and paintings and share a bond like no other. She'd take care of him just like my dad took care of me and bonded with his passions.

My heart throbbed at the two of them and I knew I had made a great decision. Even if it was still early, this was what we needed. Another person to love. Something to help us heal and grow stronger.

I slipped from the bed, grabbing a silk robe that was nearby and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. My hair was all over the place, my eyes had dark circles starting to form, my skin all sticky with sweat, tears the vernix and blood. I sponged my body down and found the hinting pain of delivering present in my belly and thighs but it wasn't anything that I couldn't handle. I'd survived a war. Childbirth was nothing.

I left the bathroom feeling refreshed and found Peeta standing by the opened window with the baby in his arms, swaddled tightly in a yellow blanket and I could make out that he was talking to her, showing her the world outside or his favourite colour. Sunset orange.

I snaked my arms around his waist and rested my head in between his shoulder blades and smiled. He was warm and exactly what I needed now. Just him and our little girl.

"The sunset is beautiful tonight." He says softly. "I think it's hinting at the little beauty we have."

I felt him turn around to face me and he dropped a kiss to my forehead. Murmuring that he loved me.

xxx

She rested her sleepy head on the picnic blanket in the meadow under the big willow tree. Her lips smacked together around her thumb that found its way into her mouth. Nothing disturbed her. It was peaceful here. The birds carried on my song while the breezed danced around her. The daisies danced in the wind around her. She was protected. She was safe. She was happy.

I ran my hand over her head, smiling at how peaceful she looked. Her dark hair had started to curl as she got bigger. She was only a year old but she looked exactly like me. She was my mini me and tried to copy me and would go wherever I would. Bess watched her from the blanket as I stood and picked the daisies as the dandelions hadn't grown yet. I was hoping to find one to tie the year together but no yellow flowers had appeared.

Today we came to the meadow for a tea party and to see the flowers of spring and sing songs. The meadow song was her favourite, especially when the birds sang it to her. She thought it was amazing that they would sing it just like Mama did.

When she woke from her rest under the willow tree she smiled at me and reached her hand out to me. I'd been watching her for the two hours she slept, watching over her to make sure nothing hurt her. I kissed her outreached hand and pulled her to my chest, hugging her. This was the only thing that calmed me down.

"Let's go and see Daddy." I tell her, knowing that Peeta would be waiting for us with her birthday treat.

I sat her on the ground as I folded up the blanket shoving it into my bag. The tea pots and kettle were also put into the bag with the snacks and drinks for us. She had gotten the hang of walking just the last few days and insisted she walk which slowed the trip down but brought great joy at her growing up.

Today though she reached up to be carried and I swooped her into my arms and carried her on my hip. Bess set off ahead of us and we followed her to the entrance of the meadow. She giggled as I tickled her with the daisy in my hand and babbled on.

It wasn't until we caught up to Bess when I realised the first dandelion had appeared and in the same place as last year. I stopped and dropped to my knees, setting her on the ground.

"Look baby, dandelion." I say pointing to it.

"Oooh." She says smacking her lips together to make the noise.

"Pick it baby." I coax her and in between her fingers she grips the stem and pulls the flower from the ground and pulls it closer to examine it. "Good job."

She hands it to me quickly and I roll the stem between my fingers sending the flower dancing.

"Dada." She says pointing to the flower.

"We'll show Daddy." I say lifting her up and carrying her the rest of the way home placing butterfly kisses on her temple.

She's content in my arms until we sight the house. She wiggles in my arms at seeing Peeta out the front talking to Effie and Haymitch and I set her down on the ground, handing her the dandelion.

I watch as she heads towards him, Bess walking protectively beside her.

"Dada. Dada. Dada." She calls as she heads towards him.

Peeta turns, looks at his daughter and bends down to accept her into his arms as her pace quickens and she falls in his arms.

"Hello Bird." He says kissing the top of her head.

"Ook." She says holding out the first dandelion, looking a little banged up after the hug.

"Oh that's lovely." He says taking it from her. "But I think it looks better right here." He says placing it behind her ear just like he did to me last year after she was born. "Now you look beautiful."

It was hard to think just 12 months ago this little girl had just entered the world. I sat kissing the tiny baby on my chest and studying her features. Today, she was picking flowers, walking, talking and having her first treat. Where had the time gone? I didn't regret those hours of holding her in my arms when she slept, tracing her cheeks with my finger, staring into her eyes as she stared back at me. Those newborn cuddles weren't a waste of time. It was me bonding with my little girl, understanding her and capturing her into my brain for the years to come like now when she wasn't that tiny baby and growing too quickly.

I smiled at my family and fell to the ground beside them. "Happy birthday my dark haired beauty." I say kissing her cheek and revealing the cupcake that Peeta had made for her treat. It was the shape of a flower.

The bright yellow frosting that meant rebirth. Strength and love.


	2. Calla's Paintbox

Tiny footsteps sound across the hallway, our bedroom door opens slowly and creaks on the tired old hinges. Bess' paws sound on the wooden floor, following the tiny footsteps.

I know it's our little darked haired beauty; well she's not so little anymore. She's just turned 4 and is weeks away from becoming a big sister.

Katniss stirs beside me, her hand coming to rub the rotund stomach before she curls into the pillow, falling back into her slumber. She's so exhausted and despite going to bed right after our daughter, she's still not getting a full night sleep. She's restless and up multiple times during the night, using the bathroom or having been woken by our growing baby who has run out of room. The baby's kicks and punches are much more powerful than our daughter had been in utero.

I smile at my beautiful wife, early morning sun starting to bathe her olive skin and I roll over, catching my daughter as she appears at my bedside. She hides her face behind the teddy her Uncle Haymitch and Aunt Effie bought her when she was just a newborn. The cream teddy has never left her side and has been everywhere with her. It caused for a lot of sleepless nights when the teddy went missing or when Katniss had managed to sneak it into the wash, trying to bring its colour back to life.

I make room for my daughter, scooting back just a little to allow her some space to crawl into the warmth of the bed to have our morning embraces before the day begins.

Today was a rare day, one where I didn't work and had the pleasure of sleeping in, despite still waking at 4 like every other morning. I liked to bask and lay in bed beside Katniss, watching her sleep and milking those few hours of peacefulness and warmth, listening to the birds sing their morning songs and watch the sun rise through the window.

And on these mornings I get to share cuddles with my daughter and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes and talk about our day's plan or the wonderful dreams she had. But some mornings I have the pleasure of waking to her in between Katniss and me when she had bad dreams and watch my two favourite people sleep peacefully, watching their chests rise and fall in sync and admire the way Katniss embraced my daughter, letting her little body mould against her own curves. It was these moments that made me feel so lucky to be alive.

"Am I getting my paintbox today?" She asks in the softest whisper, it wouldn't even frighten a mouse.

I smile at her, "You are. The train is coming today. Aster said the box would be there first thing."

"And then I can pick out my paints to go into it?"

"Yes, you can choose any colour you want."

She smiles, most likely pondering the colours she'll pick out, filling the large wooden paintbox she had picked out a couple of weeks ago in the catalogue Aster had on her shop counter.

"Do you know what colours you're going to pick?"

"How many can I choose?"

"As many as you want."

She bites her lip and I watch the lines of concentration appear on her brow. She's much like her mother in every way and makes me feel incredibly lucky.

"Papa?"

"Yes Princes?"

"When are we going to paint Chick's room?"

"I was going to do it tomorrow afternoon."

"What colour will it be?"

"What colour do you think Chick will like?"

"Hmm… green. I think Chick will like green."

"Yeah, I think Chick will too. We'll have to ask Mama when she wakes." I tell her. "But I'm sure she'll love green in Chick's room."

"It is her favourite colour." She reminds me.

"It is and I think it's only fair she gets her favourite colour painted in Chick's room. I got mine in your room."

"You did. Sunset orange."

_I startle myself awake, I've worked up a sweat. My fingers are twitching and my body is shaking uncontrollably. _

_I know what this means. _

_I look beside me, the bed is empty and my wife's side of the bed is cold. She's been gone from the comfort of our bed for hours now. And Bess, our golden furred dog is most likely curled around her body, guarding her with her head resting on Katniss' baby bump._

_These moments were rare and starting to lessen as the years went on. And I had experienced such a good run of luck. I hadn't had one for almost 5 months, the last one I had was when Katniss had told me we would become parents._

_I spent that night rocking backwards and forwards in our basement as I had a terrible dream and was too frightened to be near Katniss, scared I'd hurt her and our little dandelion that was on it's way. It had taken 14 years for us to collectively come to the decision and not even two months after Katniss telling me yes, we were expecting. _

_But she had calmed me down, found me curled in a ball and held me as my body softened against her hold and I felt the soft kisses on my face and the voice inside my head disappearing, hopefully buried for a long while. I didn't want her to see me like this, scared of becoming a parent. I didn't want her to see me as a threat to her and our child. _

_But she reassured me I wasn't a threat. She loved me more than anything else in the entire world and we'd get through this together because she was terrified too. I didn't realise too how terrified I was but I knew we'd go into this one together._

_But this morning, 5 months after my last episode and Katniss hitting the 7 month mark of her pregnancy, I was experiencing another one. One that I didn't want her to witness or one that gripping the back of a chair wouldn't help end the terrible nightmare and voice._

_I sit up in bed, attach my prosthetic hastily and run for my life as the voice fills my head. _

'_Kill the mutts. She's carrying a mutt. Her baby is a mutt. They'll destroy you.'_

_I place my hands over my ears and run out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I slip my feet into my shoes, not bothering to tie my laces and grab my winter coat. I catch her stir. I hear Bess' whimpers. But I don't stop._

'_Get the mutt. Kill the mutt. Do it. Kill her and her baby.'_

"_Shut up. Shut up!" I mutter as I run, tripping on the ground, as I don't watch where I step._

_I fall on my knees, breaking my fall with my hands on the foot of snow that covers the ground but the voice still nags._

'_Kill the mutt.'_

_I get back up, running as fast as I can and to the snow covered meadow. And until I can run no further, I collapse on the snow-covered ground._

'_Kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them."_

"_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" I scream, covering my ears and sobbing._

_I don't feel the snow seeping into my pyjama pants or the cold on my bare ears and nose. I'm in too deep. The terror has caught me off guard and I'm unable to pull myself back like I had gotten so good at doing in the last 14 years._

"_Peeta?"_

_I wince at her voice. I knew she'd had followed me. _

_I run. She follows._

_She runs. I follow._

_We made that promise to each other and have stuck by it, ever since we said real._

_I hear her trudge closer, crunching the newly fallen snow under her boots as she nears me. I can sense Bess is close beside her. _

_The terror is still gripping, still trying to crack me into a million pieces and I don't want Katniss near me in case I snap._

"_Peeta."_

_She touches my shoulder and I tense at her touch and she seems to notice but it doesn't scare her away. She grips my shoulder with her hand and kneels beside me as the hot tears roll down my face._

"_Don't let them take you from me." She whispers._

_I squeeze my eyes closed at her voice and try to beat the fading voice that's trying to get me to kill her and our baby._

"_Stay with me." _

_Bess nudges my elbow and forces me to open my eyes. _

"_Stay with me. Say it." She demands._

"_Always." I reply, so softly I'm scared she misheard me. _

_She grabs my hand, squeezing it with her hand. The touch of her skin brings more life into my body and I bring myself to look into her eyes. They are comforting. They are home. She is worth living for. _

_They are both worth living for._

"_I love you Peeta."_

"_I love you too Katniss." I reply. "I'm sorry."_

"_You have nothing to be sorry about Peeta." She tells me softly and places our hands on her rotund stomach. _

_And I know in this moment she's scared because our baby is moving. These movements make her freeze in terror._

_So I hold her hand and together we touch her stomach silently while we wait for the movements to subside._

_Bess sits on guard beside us, never moving as we come back to earth._

_And in the corner of my eye I catch something the meadow is known for doing._

_It's beautiful sunrises and sunsets._

"_Look up Katniss."_

_She tears her eyes from my own. Tears slowly sliding down her cheeks. She comes back to me like she promised and we watch the sun rise over us as we silently fight our way from the terrors that are stronger than ever before._

_But I know what we'll do today. I'm already exhausted and I can see it in her eyes. _

"_Come on let's go back to the house and warm up."_

_Our wet clothes are stripped from our bodies and we stand under the warm water of the shower, bringing warmth back into our bodies as we embrace under the spray of the water. _

_I make us a cup of tea and ring the bakery, letting them know I won't be in today and crawl into bed beside my wife and Bess. After a nightmare we sleep the day away, unable to face the world outside as we fight our own demons on the inside. We did it step-by-step, breath-by-breath. _

_It was the only way we survived. _

"_Katniss, wake up." I whisper in her ear._

_She mumbles, cuddling the blankets tighter to her body._

"_Come on. I want to show you something. You can sleep after."_

_I watch her silver eyes open and help her out of bed. She wraps her gown around her body and I take her hand, leading her to the room across the hall from us. It's early morning, the sun still rising but I was too excited to show her._

_I let her step into the middle of the room and watch her. I smile from ear to ear._

"_It's beautiful." She finally says after a long silence._

_I step beside her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple._

"_I'd thought you'd like it."_

_I look ahead at the wall and see the sunset I had spent the whole night creating. A soft orange had been painted on the other three walls and a sunset created as a feature wall._

_A sunset for our dandelion. _

"_I was thinking maybe the crib could go on that wall." I tell her, pointing to the feature wall._

"_No. It's too beautiful to cover up." She tells me and turns us to the wall that is directly facing the sunset. "This wall, so then our baby can see the sunset all the time. He or she can wake and fall asleep staring at the sunset."_

Katniss appears downstairs, with a soft smile on her face. Breakfast is ready. Cheese buns as our usual routine on my day off, hot out of the oven. This seems to be little Chick's food of choice to which makes Katniss thrilled.

Katniss kisses the top of our daughter's head, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo and running her fingers through her bed hair.

"Morning Princess." She murmurs.

"Morning Mama."

"Sleep well?"

Our daughter nods and looks up at her mother smiling. "I'm getting my paintbox today."

"You are. Picked out the colours you're going to choose?"

"Mostly." She responds. "And we've decided on Chick's bedroom colour."

"What'd you two decide on?" Katniss asks, sitting down beside our daughter, touching her belly softly.

"Green."

"Green? Why green?"

"Well, I have orange in my room. I think Chick will like green in his or her's." She replies. "But only if you like the idea."

"I love the idea." Katniss smiles. "I think Chick loves it."

"Really?"

Katniss nods and grabs Calla's hand, guiding it to her belly. "Chick's kicking, Chick loves the idea."

Calla smiles feeling her baby brother or sister and leans down to press a soft kiss to her mother's belly so gently. "You're going to love it Chick. Daddy is going to make it wonderful, you'll never want to leave."

"Eat up Cal, we've got your paintbox to get." I tell her, slipping Katniss' mug of tea across the counter.

Bess walks beside our daughter as we head into town. Our daughter sits in her shiny red wagon and I pull her along. Kids play on the street, enjoying the summer's' day. The square is buzzing with activity and I've never been more proud of being a District 12 resident. Our town that was reduced to ashes 18 years ago has re-established itself with the horror of the past way behind us. A simple memorial sits in the square but nothing else.

I squeeze Katniss' hand and we continue along towards the hobby store, our daughter waving and greeting people as she is pulled along.

She doesn't know who her parents are. Doesn't know that they were the ones who fought for her freedom, for her ability to live the life she is living now, free from hunger and pain. To never have her name in the reaping bowl or be forced to fight to the death.

But we know she'll know in a few years. She start asking questions when she gets to school and they teach her all about the revolution and how her parents played a role in it.

But we'll survive it. We always survive it.

"Come on Mama and Papa." Calla calls to us, getting us to hurry along.

We tie Bess up outside on the post and we wheel the wagon inside, Calla already having run ahead of us. Her hands are on the counter, peaking over the edge on her tippy toes at Aster. Aster loves our little girl, just like everyone else. She brings sunshine and happiness to the townspeople.

Just like the happiness and sunshine she's brought to our own lives.

"Morning Aster." I greet her. Aster looks up smiling and Calla turns to look up at us.

"Is my paintbox here?" Calla asks with a hopeful smile.

Aster bends down behind the counter and sets the wooden rectangle paintbox on the counter. I lift Calla up onto my hip for her to examine her gift. Calla's Paintbox has been inscribed on the top and Aster opens it for our daughter to inspect the inside of the box.

"Just like yours Papa." She beams.

"It is princess."

"Mama, do you see it?"

"I do. Just like Daddy's." Katniss says, kissing her cheek. "Now, you just have to pick out your paints."

"Can you help me Papa?"

I set her on her feet and she leads me to the display of paints. There are oil paints, acrylic and watercolours. There are thousands of colours and I can see how overwhelmed she is.

"I don't know which one Papa." She whispers.

I smile at her. "It's okay sweetheart, I'll help you."

Katniss sits on a stool near the easels watching us with a proud smile on her face. Watching our daughter grow has brought her such joy.

"Now, I think the first colour we need is white." I tell her, reaching for the tube of white acrylic. "White is one of the most useful colours you could ever need. White is best used to lighten colours, giving you a light blue or green. It can give you a muted orange and can help you create a beautiful sunset."

"What does white represent?" She asks.

"Simplicity, purity and hope." I tell her. She smiles as she sets the tube into the wagon. "What else?"

"Black. Power, mystery and sophistication. A little bit of black can make your colour darker, it can elect night time or create shadow and depth to your artwork."

"Red. Red is one of our primary colours. The use of red can make any other colour you may wish. Purple, pink or orange. Red is physical and can represent fire and blood, energy and passion. It can bring your artwork to life."

"You'll need some blue. Another primary colour. Blue is the colour of the mind, it's the colour of peace, communication, confidence and trust. Strong blues will stimulate clear thought and light, soft blues will calm the mind. You can use blue to create the sky and create a sense of serenity."

"Now yellow. Yellow is our last primary colour. It's the colour of friendliness and warmth. It's a colour of emotion. Yellow can create a dandelion in the meadow or the other bright colours of spring. Yellow is gentle. It lifts our spirits and self-esteem. It will make your art look confident and optimistic."

"It's the colour of spring." She says smiling.

"It surely is."

I watch her set the paint down and grab the next colour.

"Mama's favourite colour." She says.

I smile. "Now green. It can be made by using blue and yellow but I think it's an important colour to have in your paintbox. Green balances things. When the world around us contains the colour green we are reassured. It symbolises universal love, harmony, restoration and peace." I explain. "It's also the colour of life, growth and nature. We use this colour to bring to life to our paintings and our own lives. That's why it's your Mama's favourite colour."

I catch Katniss wiping the space under her eye but most importantly she is smiling.

"Now violet is an interesting colour. It's a spiritual colour and brings awareness. It signifies luxury, quality and truth. But it also is a colour signifying wisdom and dignity. It brings an interesting element to art when used.

"What about orange Papa?"

"We can't forget orange." I say, grabbing the tube. "Orange is also a beautiful colour. It can be created using red and yellow. It can create a sunset or be added to create fire. Orange can bring physical comfort, endurance, warmth, fun and security. It can symbolise creativity and quick thinking. It focuses our minds and stimulates our body and soul to its physical and emotional feeling. It can strengthen your art work."

"Is this why you painted my bedroom this colour?"

"Exactly that reason. I wanted you to feel safe and comforted while you slept soundly." I kiss her temple and grab a couple more colours before setting them in the basket.

We treat her to some water paints, paintbrushes and lots of paper for creating her masterpieces. A set of charcoals and pencils are slipped in for her colouring and drawing. Katniss insists on another smock as she's quickly growing out of the one Johanna had sent for third birthday.

Her little wagon is loaded up with art supplies and she has a wide smile on her face, eager to get home and start using the paints out for her own paintbox.

We farewell Aster and let Calla lead us home with her shiny red wagon.

"Papa, can we paint when we get home?"

"I'm sure we can do a little bit of painting before lunch." I tell her.

"Will you paint with me?"

"Of course I can and I'm sure Mama will like to join us too."

She skips as she pulls her wagon along, her excitement bubbling the closure we get to home.

Haymitch and Effie are out the front with their youngest that has drawn up a game of hopscotch and is engaged in a game with the neighbour kids.

"Uncle Haymitch! Aunt Effie!" Calla calls out to them.

Both of the adults turn their attention to our daughter who moves quickly towards them. Their eyes light up as they see her approaching and smile at her running towards them with her wagon.

"I got it! I got it!"

They knew she had a paintbox on the way. She hadn't stopped talking about it since she picked it out of the catalogue at the store. And for weeks it's all she's spoken to them about.

She reaches for her paintbox and makes a run for Effie and Haymitch.

"See! See!"

Haymitch and Effie kneel to view her new gift.

"Wow, it's beautiful."

"And I got lots of paints and brushes too."

We appear at her side and watch her showing off her paints and explaining all the colours to her Aunt and Uncle.

"Well, we request the first painting of Calla Mellark." Effie tells our daughter.

"What would you like?"

"Anything Princess."

Calla smiles and looks up at Katniss and I. "Can we go and paint now?"

"Of course. Let's go." Katniss tells her.

Haymitch helps her pack up her red wagon. "I'll have the painting done by the time it's time to feed the geese." Calla tells them both. She also helped her Uncle Haymitch feed the geese in the afternoon and took pride in undertaking the task.

"We can't wait."

"Come on, let's go and get you set up." I tell her reaching for the wagon handle.

Katniss gets her into her smock and we set up the table out on the back porch for our morning of painting.

Calla has been painting since she could hold a paintbrush, mostly with just water paints and sometimes acrylics when she started to get bigger.

But she was more of a drawer than a painter. I hated to admit it but she was clumsy, just like her mother. She still liked painting, it was one of her favourite things to do but she wasn't a painter.

She produces her paintings to Effie and Haymitch that afternoon as she goes to help Haymitch feed the geese.

Her other paintings hang up on the clothesline I had strung up years before. They are colourful and an arrangement of things.

I stand behind Katniss, my arms wrapped around her very pregnant stomach, feeling our little Chick moving about and we admire our paintings, created from the paintbox. Calla is next door with her Uncle Haymitch, having left us alone to admire our art.

Our hands are covered in dried paint but we are content and happy.

It's been a good day today.

…

Calla, she's our dancing girl. She has been since she could walk. She has much preferred to dance than walk or run. And now, I watch her dancing in our yard. The August sun beats down on her as she twirls on the green grass and watches her purple tutu fly as she twirls.

She falls to the ground, obviously dizzy from all the twirling. She giggles as Bess gives her a kiss before she lies down besides her, keeping a careful eye on the four year old. That same careful eye she's had since Calla came into our lives.

My daughter is radiant. She's been radiant since the first dandelion of the year. The ones we go hunting for on her birthdays. The moment we go dandelion hunting, the smile grows wider on her face. She's our spring baby and when the sun is out, it's when she's her happiest. And during these warm months I make sure we spend every day outside, picking bright coloured flowers and picnicking in the garden or in the meadow. She likes to lay her sleepy head in my lap and I play with her beautiful hair while she plays with the dandelions we have picked, trying her best to create flower crowns.

I also like to sing to her. The Meadow song was still her favourite song and now she liked to join me when we sang, letting the birds carry our song long into the afternoon.

Today has been a good day. No nightmares woke me. Peeta woke happy. Calla woke happy. Our 8-day-old son woke happy. Peeta had left for his half day at work and I woke to Calla cuddled with me in bed. Her head snuggled into my chest, listening to my heartbeat and sucking her thumb. A habit she hadn't seemed to break at four years old. But if it brought her comfort, I wasn't in any hurry to stop the thumb sucking. The two of us snoozed for a couple more hours like most mornings and her new baby brother slept soundly for those couple of hours we remained in bed, curled in the warmth and safety of our bed.

Baby Isaac makes a tiny peep from inside of his Moses basket that sits beside me. His nickname we found to be very fitting once he was born. He hardly cried and had peeped like a baby bird. He slept for hours on end and was a very content boy. He was also a very loved baby boy. I smile down at him as he snoozes in the mid-morning warmth. The two of us are tucked up under the shade of the porch, watching Calla play in the yard.

Peeta would be home in an hour for our backyard picnic under the tree that offered the most shade. He was doing only a couple of half days a week until Isaac was 6 weeks old. He didn't want to miss out on spending time with or son or our daughter.

But today he had an activity planned for our dancing girl. Our time had been spent trying to entertain Calla, reminding her how much we still loved her despite her baby brother. But she loved her baby brohter and didn't feel an ounce of jealousy at his arrival. And since he was such a good baby, it didn't bother her.

The dancing girl rose from the grass and continued on twirling around and around again, laughing as she watched the clouds instead of the grass. Her two braids whipped as she twirled and Bess watched with her tongue lolling from her mouth with her tail wagging.

Bess seemed to feed off of our dancing girl's happiness. Calla was her favourite person and had demoted me but I didn't mind. I loved seeing the relationship the two of them had. But Bess still came looking for me time to time for pats and cuddles when the dancing girl slept or was out for the day with her Aunt, Uncle or her Papa. Bess still loved my baby bump and on those cold nights when we sat on the couch, she curled around my belly and I petted Bess while rubbing the spot where Isaac grew. And even those trips into the woods, Bess was right beside me.

Calla falls to the ground again and my breath catches in my throat. I was sure she had hurt herself this time. I'm about to rise from my chair to run for her but her infectious laugh sounds and I'm relieved that she was unhurt.

She rises from the grass and dances towards me with Bess close to her side. I offer her my open arms as she clambers up the steps to where I sit and she falls into my embrace giggling.

"Did you see me Mama? I fell over." She tells me, giggling with a wide smile.

I lift her to my lap, kissing her forehead and embracing her. "I did. You scared me."

"Sorry Mama." She apologises, resting her head on my chest, right where my heart beats. "Did I scare Chick?" She asks me, peeking at her baby brother in the chair beside me.

"No, he is fine." I reassure her, kissing her head. "You ready to go inside?"

She nods her head and I stand up, lifting her to my hip to carry her inside. I grab the handles of the Moses Basket and carry my two babies inside. Peeta would scold me for carrying both of them. My body was still tender and sore from Isaac's birth. He had been nearly a pound and a half bigger than his sister and had left me with triple the amount of stitches than Calla's birth.

Calla settles in her playroom, the formal living room we had converted when we slowly started to accumulate toys for her. Peeta had made it a happy place to come to. It lost its cold and dark feeling. He had created the meadow on the biggest wall; there was a field of dandelions covering the green meadow and a beautiful sunset. The remaining walls were painted a soft green and it soon became a welcoming haven.

We checked Calla's height on the doorframe and we'd do the same for Isaac once he could stand. The big window overlooked the garden the three of us had planted together when Calla was just two years old. A table and chair set sat in the centre of the room. Shelves had been constructed and placed around the room at various heights and shapes. They were filled with many books, toys, dress ups, arts and crafts materials as well as blankets and pillows used to create pillow forts on those nights we liked to sleep in the Happy Room. It was a bright and cheery room and I never felt dark inside the room. I mostly found myself smiling in here. That's why we called it the Happy Room.

My sunshine played in here.

She moved to her big dolls house in the corner of the room and Bess settled down beside her.

"Which doll would you like Bess?" She asks Bess, offering her a few choices.

"I'm just going to leave Isaac in here Calla while I do the laundry." I tell her.

"Okay Mama."

I smile at my source of happiness and duck out of the room to put on a load of washing. Most of it is newborn clothing and I catch myself admiring the sleep suits, socks and singlets he sleeps in.

I forgot how tiny they are when they are this age.

But I don't forget how quickly he'll be out of these clothes.

And I make a promise, much like the one I did when Calla was born. Make the most of every moment, even if I'm exhausted and covered in spit up and at my wits end. It'll be over so sooner than I'd rather.

I was still in such awe the second Isaac was placed on my chest and he didn't move from my chest for the first hour as I studied him, just like I did with Calla. And I'm making use of the newborn snuggles now.

But I've found family of four embraces much more fulfilling and wonderful than just newborn snuggles. Having my whole family with me is truly a blessing.

Peeta walks through the door just as I come up from the basement. I know he hates being away from us, especially when he's cooped up in the bakery during summer. He wants to be around to lighten the load and has been ever since we found out we were expecting again. He didn't want me stressed or run off my feet as I took care of Calla. And he made that decision when I was pregnant again to cut back his hours and be there for us. He took Calla some days, giving me some time alone and when days were tough. He wanted to spend as much time with Calla before she went to school and now with Isaac he wanted to be with us more than anything.

He sets the bag down on the kitchen and kisses me softly.

"You're cheerful."

"I have a lot to be cheerful about." He tells me. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good. Real good. Maybe even great if you have a certain something in that bag."

He smirks and reaches inside, producing a package of warm cheese buns. "Here you go my love."

I smile and kiss him on the lips. "Thank you." I murmur against his lips. "They're in the playroom."

He disappears and leaves me to sneak a cheese bun. I can hear Calla's excitement sound down the hallway and I catch myself smiling before tiptoeing down the hallway to linger outside of the playroom.

"Are you happy Papa?" Calla asks, resting her hands on Peeta's cheeks.

"I've very happy Calla." He replies. "Are you happy?"

"I'm always happy."

I smile. It's true. There's never a moment when she's upset or sad. She's always happy.

And even on bad mornings or moments, she was always there to cheer us up. She hugs us tightly, showers us with kisses and gives us lots of affection and attention. Soothing attention that always makes the bad mornings pass. She's starting to ask questions about why we have our bad days but we sidestep the questions for now. We don't want to frighten her or take away the dancing girl who makes our life shiny.

"Come on, we have a picnic date scheduled." He tells our daughter.

"Don't forget Isaac."

"I won't forget him."

I've pull the big picnic rug from the cupboard and have our lunch in my other hand. We meet in the hallway and I see the happiness on their faces. Peeta must have had a good day. I can see it in his bright eyes.

He carries Calla on his side and the Moses basket in his hands.

We spread the rug under the shade of the biggest tree in our yard and begin our picnic lunch. Bess lays out in the sun bathing her fur in sunlight and we fill our stomachs with cheese buns, fruit and snacks.

Isaac rests in my arms nursing while we eat. Peeta sits up against the trunk of the tree with me between his legs, leaning up against his chest. He works his fingers through the tension in my neck and I press myself closer to his body as our newborn nurses quietly in my arms. Calla lies on the rug, Bess now beside her and they watch the clouds in the bright blue sky.

"Why don't the three of you lay down, have an after lunch nap? I've got a little bit to do." He tells me.

"Why don't you join us?"

"I'll be too restless. Besides, I've got Izzie's birthday present to finish."

"I can help."

"You rest." He tells me, kissing the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

I yawn instinctively. I hadn't realised how tired I was until he suggested a snooze. Despite Isaac being such a good baby, my routine is all out. I'm sleeping lightly and terribly, I'm on mother mode waiting for him to cry or wake up for a feed, a diaper change or just for a cuddle.

I catch Calla's yawn and see she is ready for our afternoon lunch snooze. She hardly had afternoon naps but since my pregnancy with Isaac she's joined me for a snooze, we've mostly spent the time curled on the couch or up in bed. Some days we never slept, we just cuddled and talked. I played with her hair. I tickled her back. I watched her sleep. She watched me sleep and listened to my beating heart and felt her brother moving inside of me. It had become our thing and I wasn't looking forward to her going off to school or outgrowing our after lunch snoozes.

"Come on Cal, let's go and swing." I tell her.

Isaac is burped and in Peeta's arms. Calla and I climb into the hammock on the back porch. Calla lies on one side, Isaac lies on the other side. He curls into my side and the gentle rocking settles him into another snooze. Peeta leaves us with a kiss placed on each of our foreheads and Bess lies on guard, watching her family.

"Sing Mama."

I smile at her and peak down at Isaac quickly. I rub Calla's back. She's firmly pressed to my side with her arm wrapped around my still swollen middle. Her head rests on my shoulder and she plays with my braid. This was where she was the safest.

I only sing for her, Isaac, and Peeta when nightmares terrorise him and only my voice can bring him back.

I sing the Meadow Song because it's her favourite and also Isaac's. Isaac always stopped to listen when he was rumbling inside my womb.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleep eyes  
and when again they open, the sun will rise_

Peeta wakes us. I had grown used to his familiar tread and I loved hearing him on mornings when he left for work or when he crossed the hall to our daughter's bedroom. I loved hearing his familiar gait when I was in the basement doing the washing. It was comforting just knowing he was around.

Calla stirs beside me. She had inherited my hunter's instincts and woke to anything. She had also inherited the quietness of my own tread, which contributed to her dancing and twirling. There was a chance our daughter would become a ballerina rather than a hunter or an artist.

But we didn't care.

She'd have the opportunity to become anything she imagined.

She smiles up at me and I kiss her forehead with a soft butterfly kiss. Butterfly kisses were still her favourite kisses in the entire world. They were soft and precious and she always imagined they carried secrets and happiness.

She looked over my chest to her baby brother and softly ran her hand over the top of his crown that was covered in the lightest dusting of blond hair. He looked to be dreaming a wonderful dream most likely filled with cuddles, kisses and his mother's milk.

"Do babies dream?" Calla asks me in a soft whisper, scared to wake her brother.

"Yeah they do."

"Do you think they have good dreams?"

"Most of the time." I reply.

"I hope they have only good dreams Mama."

"Me too."

I gently lift Isaac to my chest and he curls into my warmth. Calla and I press soft butterfly kisses to his face and admire how peaceful he looks.

"I have an activity for you Calla." Peeta announces. "Come on."

He lifts Calla from the hammock and helps me out. Isaac is laid in his Moses Basket and Calla and I stand beside Peeta's activity. He's laid out an old sheet on the grass with her name outlined in a black marker.

He fumbles with the crate he had carried out and pulls out the bottles of paint.

"Now Calla, we know how neat we tell you to be with your painting. Today, you can get as messy as you like." He tells our daughter. "How much of a mess do you think she can make?" He asks me.

She was still four and despite her owning her paintbox and our years of painting, she still was clumsy when it came to painting.

"You really want me to answer that? You remember what she did when she got into your studio. We had a toddler streaked with blues and greens for almost a week."

"Well she was only young then. She didn't understand. And I learnt my lesson, not to leave the paint unattended. Besides we're outside today. She can be as messy as she likes."

"So what exactly is she doing?" I ask.

"Expressing her creativity." He replies. "It's a lovely summer's afternoon and she's a kid. We're letting her be messy and creative." He explains, pouring out some paint into a container. "Maybe we can decorate her bedroom with it or something."

"She's like me in the painting department." I tell him with a smirk.

"She's still young. She's got years to shine." He replies. "And I thought it'd be nice to have a memento."

I smile. We've already got a million memento's of our daughter and fast collecting some for our son. But he's right, she'll be grown before we know it and we won't have the opportunity for moments like this.

"We're ready." Peeta announces. "Do you want to get into your painting clothes?"

She shakes her head with a smile.

Her tutu and singlet is stripped in a heap by her feet and she stands in just her underwear. Her braids are coming undone but I don't bother to fix them.

I pull up a couple of chairs for Peeta and I and move Isaac between us.

"Okay Calla. Paint your life away."

She grabs one of the paintbrushes from the stack and dips it into the yellow paint. Peeta sits down beside me and we watch her. She's careful, her little tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration as she focuses on the C of her name. She sings to herself and paints the yellow onto her C.

"How are you going sweetie?"

"Good Papa."

She's trying her hardest to be neat and tidy. She tries to remain inside the lines and takes her time.

The bit of afternoon sun that peaks through feels nice on my skin. I notice Peeta basking in the mid-afternoon sun and I reach for his hand, squeezing it.

As we grew back together, we loved spending afternoons in the sun. They were usually spent lazing and snoozing. But it was comforting. We shared stolen kisses and gradually felt each other's skin beneath our own fingers and hands. Late spring and summer we spent out in the yards of our house and in the meadow when it turned green. It became tradition, as the years went on and we grew back together. I still went out to the woods but traded the woods for afternoons spent with Peeta. And when Calla eventually arrived, we always lay under the shade and wasted summer afternoons admiring our daughter and spending time together as a new family.

Summer became my favourite season after Spring.

Calla soon abandons her paintbrush in favour for her fingers and hands.

And I knew when I saw her happy, I was thankful for the fight to secure her future. To allow her to be a kid and to dream of a wonderful life and laugh under the summer sun. I was glad she was allowed to be silly and a child.

"Do you think this is how this would end up?" I ask him after Calla has grabbed the bottle of paint and has squirted it onto the sheet.

"I knew it'd get messy but I never imagined her to paint like that." He admits and I catch Calla lay on her belly, spreading the orange onto the sheet.

I smile at her painting style and our paint covered dancing girl. She was a mess but she was ecstatic.

Effie and Haymitch watch her from their fence with Floyd and Izzie who are delighted at their adoptive cousin. Calla providing entertainment for the family of four who bask in Calla's energy.

Peeta pulls out a charcoal and paper to sketch our daughter and I happily watch her from my spot on the chair.

I watch him create the scene so beautifully and kiss him for a long while when he finishes.

We pull apart, our gaze lingering a little longer than usual.

"Thank you for this."

He smiles at me and kisses me quickly.

I pull away and turn back to our painting girl who I notice has disappeared.

"Peeta." I say, tilting my head in the direction of the bright yellow handprint left on the banister. A trail of mix coloured footprints lead up the wooden steps and fade, as they get closer to the door. Another handprint is pressed to the glass of the open backdoor.

"I better go and get her." He says running after her.

Peeta emerges with our giggling girl held out in front of him. I had seen this many times before when she had covered herself in flour or cake mixture.

But this doesn't bother either of them. Calla giggles wildly and Peeta smiles. It's that same smile that fills my body with happiness.

And our dancing girl brings me even more joy even when I'm terrorised by nightmares. And now I know her baby brother will do exactly the same thing. He already is making each day greater.

We record the day in our book. A day to take pleasure in when our days are tough. Our dancing girl was paint free and tucked up in her bed sound asleep. Our little boy, he was due to wake for his night feed before we tucked him inside the comfort of his bassinet.

I watch her sleep from the doorway of her room. She's sprawled across her bed, exhausted after our day today. But I notice the smile she has on her face. She remained joyful for the remainder of the afternoon and during dinner. She recalled the way she painted, giggling as she retold us about it at dinner.

I tiptoe across her bedroom floor, picking up her teddy that has fallen to the ground during her sleep and tuck it under her arm. I kneel down beside her bed and kiss the top of her head.

"Thank you for today Calla." I whisper to her. "You don't understand how much joy you bring me." I hear her gentle breathing and smile. "I love you so much. And I'm so glad you are mine." I add. "Sleep pleasant dreams little one."

I kiss her once more and stand up, moving back to the door. I can hear Isaac's fussing from across the hall and Peeta's gentle voice trying to soothe him.

I look up above where my daughter sleeps and smile.

Above her bed her afternoon art project has been hung up.

And in a rainbow of colours our daughter's name has been coloured and brought to life. I smile at the beautiful mix of colours.

And I remember.

She's our dandelion in the spring. She's rebirth. She's strength.

And mostly importantly she's love.


End file.
